Risen Short Story #5
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Three men worked their way along a narrow, descending passage.
"You want to know what I think?" asked Olf, shouldering a pickaxe.
"No, not really," grumbled Dytar. "Keep the torch up, so we don't miss any traps."
"I'll tell you anyway," said the first. "I've got a feeling we are going to find a lot of gold. I can feel it in my little finger."
"Aah, in the last temple, it was in your big toe. Can't you make up your mind?" moaned Dirk. He was carrying a bundle of shovels. "And we didn't find anything, either."
"Well, that's because the guys from the Order were faster than us. But nobody's been here before us."
"Just be glad they didn't catch us outside the city."
"Hey, watch out! Stop," called Dytar, putting an end to the debate. "Don't you see that joint, you dimwit? That plate looks strange to me. That's bound to be another trapdoor."
"Well, that's better than those nasty spikes we had earlier."
There was a distant roar. Then a sound like nails sliding across stone. Closer. Much closer.
"What was that?" whispered Olf. "Did you hear that?"
"We're not deaf," breathed Dirk.
"Go back!"
